Chosen

I remember from school days for sport competitions, how two team leaders would be chosen and then they had to choose children from the group of kids standing there with fear written all over their faces of being left until last…

It was cruel.

One by one people would be picked and if you weren’t popular, you would be left standing there until eventually someone made it clear that they had to have you but didn’t really want you on their team.

I especially remember this because I wasn’t very good at some sports or a strong swimmer and I would silently stand there and feel like raising my hand and shouting ‘Pick me! Pick me! but obviously that would have drawn too much attention to myself…

I even remember in one of my grade classes that they sat our class of children according to our marks… can you imagine that? I was fortunate to be blessed with a brain that worked well and that my marks were good and looking back am grateful to God for that as my childhood wouldn’t range in the easiest of childhoods and I can just imagine if it was hard at school and home how I would have coped.

But

can you imagine how the little girl or boy felt who had the lowest marks? They were exposed with nowhere to hide. Such humiliation. Every teacher and student knew that they had the lowest marks in the class. I can imagine why the teacher did this. She probably wanted to encourage the children to work harder and learn more so that they could move up in the ranks but to be honest I think so much damage was done. As an adult now I would have said something...No! I probably wouldn’t have just said something, I would have done more than that to fight for the ‘underdog’ as such.

When I look back at what happened in school I would put that teacher at the top of my list of being cruel.

I remember how I felt when called up to the black board to do long division sums and even though I was classified as clever, the fear I felt and always wanting to find a way to be excused to go to the bathroom so I didn’t have to do it, is foremost in my mind. Can you imagine how someone who struggled felt?

This got me thinking how each and every one of us in this world wants to be CHOSEN...

The truth is that we have all been CHOSEN regardless of race, age, abilities or what we look like and I penned this poem in gratitude to God…

Jesus,
The chosen One
I chose You
but actually
You chose me
from before I was born.

God chose You
and You chose me…

Thank you for choosing me
because without You
I would be entirely lost in this earth and for all eternity.

It feels so good to be CHOSEN.

—
Brenda.ps23©